


A force of nature

by EllieStormfound



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Feral Jaskier | Dandelion, Lightning - Freeform, M/M, Non-Human Jaskier | Dandelion, thunderstorm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-24
Updated: 2020-09-24
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:54:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26630959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllieStormfound/pseuds/EllieStormfound
Summary: In which Geralt searches for his bard who disappears in the middle of a storm. Is Jaskier actually afraid of thunderstorms or is there a reason he always hides away when thunder and lightning are near?
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 14
Kudos: 112





	A force of nature

**Author's Note:**

  * For [InnocentCinnamonPun](https://archiveofourown.org/users/InnocentCinnamonPun/gifts).



> The wonderful InnocentCinnamonPun was so sweet to ask me if I wanted to write a fic based off of this breathtaking artwork of @phoenixandjacob (on tumblr)

Geralt looked up from his dinner to Jaskier, who had just sprung up from the chair, “leaving already? You haven’t even finished your dinner.”

“Ah, you know me,” the bard replied, fumbling with the buttons of his light blue doublet. A moment ago they heard the subtle rumbling of thunder from far away.   
“Still afraid of thunderstorms,” the witcher concluded with a smirk, head tilted. 

They had arrived half an hour ago in the little village and had been glad to find an inn, which wasn’t a given for a settlement this small. Because of a successful contract for Geralt a few days ago and Jasikier playing in front of a generous crowd in the last town, they had enough coin between them for two separate rooms. 

Geralt wanted initially to camp a few hours outside of the village but Jaskier insisted on continuing because of the coming rain he could feel in his bones. The witcher, who had been on the path way longer, had been sure that there would be no rain tonight but to his surprise the first drops started falling as they entered the outskirts of the village as the last light of the day died.   
“Oh yes,” the bard replied, “terribly afraid, I’m going to hide in my bed.”

He turned around and made his way up the stairs towards his room. Geralt shook his head and finished both his and Jaskier’s stew, stowing away the bread as provisions for tomorrow.  
He had always found it odd that Jasker, an adult man that had not been afraid to chat up a full grown witcher in a dirty tavern in Posada and followed him, watching him fight monsters normal humans had nightmares about, was afraid of thunderstorms. But always when they found themselves in hearing distance of one the bard hid away in his room, not to be seen again till the morning. 

Half an hour and an ale later Geralt also went up to his room. From the increased volume of the thunder he could tell that the storm was rapidly approaching - the rhythmic beating of the raindrops on the roof growing louder and louder. He thought about checking up on Jaskier, but shook his head, not wanting to embarrass the younger man by showing concern.   
He set down in front of the small fireplace, finding a comfortable position and let himself slip into a meditative state. He had felt too restless to go to bed already and sometimes meditation could calm his mind. 

After a while Geralt felt relaxed and warm. His thoughts drifted by, without him dwelling on them, like water on a mill, the soft clacking of the mill wheel quiet in the background, the sound of dripping water and crackling fire wrapping around him like a warm blanket. His mind expanded from his body and became pleasantly empty, spreading it’s wings and flying over the silent landscape as if it was flying home. 

From time to time more thoughts came, Jaskier singing his newest song, the worn straps on Roach’s saddle needed replacing… but he guided them to the water mill so he could stay a while longer in this warm and soft place…

But the clacking of the mill grew louder and… irregular. Geralt drifted up to full conscience again, back to the hard wooden floor he was kneeling on and shook his head. He could still hear the clacking, but it was not a watermill. He stood up and turned his head slowly. It sounded like window shutters came loose in the storm.   
And it seemed to come from Jaskier’s room. He furrowed his brows. Why didn’t Jaskier fasten the shutters?

\-----

Geralt was outside the inn in an instant, throwing on his armour and swords and a few potions in his pockets after he had found Jaskier’s room vacated. The windows had been blown open and it was raining on the empty bed. 

He ran to the other side of the building where their windows were facing. The barmaid had shook her head at his barked question if she had seen the bard walking out.   
Jaskier wouldn’t leave his room during the thunderstorm and even though he was prone to the occasional stupidity, Geralt was sure Jaskier would not jump out of a window in the middle of one. There wasn’t a brothel or really anything else that could have lured him out in this weather. Could someone or something have kidnapped him - right under Geralt’s nose and snatched him through the window?

Geralt was shaking his head. By now it was raining hard and the ground was wet and muddy. Despite his heightened senses he couldn’t make out any footprints. Remembering the innkeeper telling him that the occasional foglets roamed their woods, small humanoid creatures with razor sharp claws and the ability to cloak themselves in fog, his heart started to beat faster with concern. The ugly little fuckers loved thunderstorms but he had never heard of them kidnapping bards.

“Jaskier?” he shouted, “Jaskier, where are you?” The rain had washed away any trace of scent so he frantically looked around for any other clues.  
Something light blue caught his eyes further away through the trees and he ran towards it. It was a piece of Jaskier’s doublet, caught on a low hanging branch. Geralt ripped the piece of cloth off and started to run further into the forest. Now he was sure that Jaskier was not out here of his own free will and his heart started hammering even faster.

The storm was right overhead by now and he could feel the charge in the air. The rain was beating down mercilessly and he flinched when a lighting bolt shot down just a few dozen meters before him with a loud bang and a blinding flash of light. He had to stop and shake his head and after a moment picked up running again. 

Geralt could see another shimmer of blue between the trees and this time it was the rest of Jaskier’s doublet. Geralt pressed it to his face, inhaling his friend's scent. To his surprise and relief he could smell no fear but there was… something else, something like hot summer air and a cold fireplace. He started running again. 

And then there was something...someone? between the trees ahead of him. A white shadow and it looked like it was...dancing? Geralt stopped and silently approached the tree line to a clearing and in the middle of it stood a person with their back to Geralt, surrounded by waving clouds of fog, swaying as if to music Geralt couldn’t hear. 

Geralt tried to focus his eyes but he had a hard time to get a clear picture. The air was charged and crackling as if the next lighting strike wasn’t far off. He could see other humanoid forms drifting in the mist - foglets. They were moving around the person in the middle like a grotesque caricature of maidens dancing around a maypole.   
Geralt felt the crackling in the air increase and silently sneaked closer to the person. 

Weirdly Geralt was troubled about the detail that he couldn’t make out the colour of the shirt the person was wearing. It seemed to change from dark to light, but that was not possible.  
When he was only a few meters away he could hear a rumbling noise. And then a thunderbolt leaped from the sky right down towards them. Geralt’s heart stopped and he stumbled backwards. But the person stretched their hands up in the air. And with a movement so quick even Geralt had difficulties tracing it, grabbed the searing light, knelt down and pressed their hands to the ground, guiding the lighting into the muddy soil. A loud thunder crashed like a wave toward the witcher and made him trip and fall on is butt.

He shook his head again, the air clearer now. It was still raining and the mist hung in the air. But before he could get up the person turned around and leaped at him, pinning the witcher down to the muddy floor. Geralt’s breath caught in his throat. 

It was Jaskier.  
And somehow at the same time he didn’t look like himself. He was sopping wet, rain dripping from his hair onto Geralt’s face. And his eyes...the blue of his eyes, normally a rich cornflower shade, were so bright that they were nearly white, shining in the darkness. 

“Jaskier?” Geralt asked and the bard inhaled sharply, the wild expression in his eyes slowly turning to recognition.  
Deliberately slow Geralt lifted his right hand to the bard’s face.  
“Jaskier, it’s me, Geralt,” he said in a calm voice.  
Before his hand touched Jaskier’s face, the bard said in a voice as deep as thunder, “careful.” It didn’t sound like a thread and when Geralt’s hand finally touched the wet but warm cheek he felt a prickling that vanished quickly.

Jaskier didn’t look tired or scared. He looked alive, brimming with energy and there was a powerful aura around him.   
“Jaskier, how...what was that...are you…” Geralt stumbled.  
“Okay?” the bard asked, his voice still deeper than usual but a bit more...human?..., “yes, I’m okay.” He tilted his head slightly and watched the witcher with his uncanny bright eyes. Then he leaned back and stood up, watching the witcher for a moment longer before he made a few steps back, giving Geralt room to stand up. 

“What just happened?” Geralt asked, “Jaskier, who...what are you? Have you been cursed?”  
Geralt had now a clearer view on the bard. He was paler than usual, hair wet and disheveled, his fingers were back with soot and earth and he had smeared a bit on his face and lips, staining them black. The bard grinned wickedly, bowed low and said, “I am and will always be Jaskier, your humble bard.”

Geralt stayed silent and Jaskier sighed as he stood upright once more, “I didn’t want you to see me like this,” he gestured vaguely to his face and body.  
“What are you?” Geralt repeated through his teeth, “have you been cursed?”  
The bard laughed again, low and rumbling, “no, this is just some part of me I have never shown you, my dear witcher, but it has always been there.” Jaskier smiled sheepishly as he looked at him.

“My medallion,” Geralt said, grabbing the wolf medallion sitting on his chest, “why did it never hum in your presence? You even touched it and it stayed silent.”  
Jaskier raised his eyebrows and said thoughtfully, “because I am not magic, Geralt, you could say that I am a...force of nature.”  
“Hmmm,” the witcher replied, “so you were never actually afraid of thunderstorms?”   
Jaskier smiled once more and shook his head.

“Are you,” Geralt said slowly, “some kind of minor god?”  
“Oh my dear witcher,” Jaskier said with a laugh, “don’t let my father hear that. He always said I was a freak, a monstrosity brought to him as punishment for his sins.”

The witcher whirled around suddenly as he heard a splash in the distance and with a smooth practised movement drew out his sword, “what was that? Another foglet?”  
“No,” Jaskier said from behind him, “they hid from the lightning and won’t come out for a while.”

Geralt started to move around, trying to locate whatever had made the sound.  
“Why didn’t the foglets attack you earlier?” he asked.   
“To be honest,” Jaskier said, “I don’t know. They never attacked, they just like to...hmmm...dance with me.” Geralt turned around to look at him again, “so I actually did see you dance?”  
He heard Jaskier laugh his rumbling thunder laugh and at the same moment muddy water flew towards him, but he could duck out of the way at the last moment.

“Shit, this is a water hag, do they like you too?” Geralt called to the bard.   
“No, no friendly bond with these foul creatures!”  
“Any more lightning coming soon?” Geralt asked, slowly stepping towards Jaskier, sword still in hand. 

“No, not enough...charge in the air for a full bolt,” he replied. Geralt grabbed a vial of cat potion and downed it. With the clouds covering the moon and and the rain beating down it had gotten very dark and he needed every advantage to combat the hag. After a moment his pupils had blown wide, the golden irises nearly invisible, turning his eyes black. 

“Get behind me,” Geralt called, but Jaskier laughed and said, “I am not defenceless, dear witcher.” He heard Jaskier stepping behind him and felt his back softly press against his. “Close your eyes when I tell you to,” Jaskier said quietly. A moment later a large humanoid form came running towards them, screaming a high pitched screech. Geralt made the aard sign and sent a wall of air towards it, but the hag sidestepped it.

“Let it come near,” Jaskier shouted, “trap it with yrden.” When the hag was just a few meters away, Geralt did as he was asked and when Jaskier shouted, “eyes!” Geralt closed his eyes. He heard Jaskier step forward, heard a zap and he could see a flash of bright light behind his eyelids. A splash made him open his eyes and Geralt saw the hag’s lifeless body laying in the mud, Jaskier standing above it, panting. 

“Is it dead?” Geralt asked.  
Jaskier carefully tipped his foot against the limp body of the hag and nodded to Geralt. A moment later he trembled, stumbling back into the witcher, who caught him around the waist.   
“Jaskier, everything okay?”

He felt the bard’s labored breathing and rapid heartbeat. “I’m just...a bit drained,” he said, voice sounding hollow, “took more energy than I thought...gotta lay down for a while.”   
Jaskier slumped forward, so Geralt turned him around, grip tightening and threw him over his shoulder. He could hear a quiet huff from the bard but nothing more.   
So they made their way back to the inn.

Because the bard’s bed had been drenched from the rain coming through the open window, Geralt took him to his own room. He stripped him of his wet clothes, laid him on the bed and wrapped the warm blanket around him. After he himself had changed from wet to dry clothes he placed the wooden chair next to the bed, sat down and looked at his bard. His cheeks had gained back a bit more color and he looked less...otherworldly, more like himself again. A moment later Jaskier blinked his eyes open and they stared at each other in silence.

“Do you feel better?” Geralt finally asked.  
Jaskier nodded and said, “but I am a bit cold.”  
Geralt stood up, saying, “I can throw a few more logs on the fire.”

Jaskier’s hand shot out from under the blanket and grabbed Geralt’s, “no,” his voice sounded thin and tired, unusually unsure, “will you lay in bed with me, keep me warm?”   
Geralt blinked, nodded and stood up. He undressed down to his undergarments, Jaskier made room so Geralt could slip under the cover. The shivering bard moved closer, till he was pressed to the witcher’s warm body, laying his head on Geralt’s chest. The witcher wrapped his right arm loosely around him. 

They lay like this for a while and as Geralt started to drift off to sleep he heard Jaskier whisper, “you aren’t afraid of me?”   
Geralt shook his head but asked, “should I be?”  
“No,” the bard whispered.   
“You will not...zap me with a lightning strike in my sleep?” Geralt asked with a grin.   
Jaskier pressed his face in his chest, smiling, “no, you oaf.”

“Good,” the witcher replied, “sleep now, we will talk tomorrow.” He could feel Jaskier exhale slowly and after a while drifting off to sleep. Geralt had so many questions, but they could wait for tomorrow. Tonight he was just glad to have his bard back by his side and placed a careful kiss on the top of Jaskier’s head.

**Author's Note:**

> It was challenging for me to actually write something inspired by these beautiful pictures, but in a positive way! Getting requests/prompts challenge me to write something I would never have come up with all on my own! I hope you like this fic! Let me know what you think! Thank you again for the request!
> 
> Footnote one: We have this old folk song in germany about a water mill clacking and a miller grinding his corn (Es klappert die Mühle am rauschenden Bach), so for a lot of german speakers the image of a water mill would probably come to mind in association with rhythmic clacking sounds. That is why I used this image in Geralt’s meditation, but was not sure if english speakers could be confused by this, so here is the explanation :D 
> 
> Footnote two: Also in the meditation, I wrote “His mind expanded from his body and became pleasantly empty, spreading it’s wings and flying over the silent landscape as if it was flying home” which is loosely based on the last verse of the german poem “Mondnacht” from Joseph von Eichendorff


End file.
